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41
I started work as soon as Sandra left. I had time on my hands before I met up with Hector Nelson. I had a suspicion that the response I was searching for may not be as straightforward as the problem.
I was correct.
I needed to learn what happened in early August to make the British Government keep it off the front pages.
The short answer was Tom O'Connor.
Tom O'Connor was a Labour political figure who was Shadow Deputy Prime Minister to Nick Stratton and a strong supporter of Brexit, Immigration, and the return of troops to Afghanistan.
Many Labour Party supporters deliberated O'Connor was a turncoat to the political party and to the values it professes to back, and some wished he would misplace his location in the next shadow Government shake-up. One of them was Gerry Agnew, a billionaire with incomplete party-political knowledge but satisfactory individuality to take a stand slightly against the return of troops to Afghanistan. Agnew contest
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IF THE TRUTH BE TOLD 42
When Sandra awoke Tuesday morning, I was deskbound, writing a couple of letters. “Morning darling,” I said without looking up. "What's happening?" Sandra asked, still somewhat tired. "I had a very thought-provoking chat with Hector Nelson on the Tube. Shall I tell you about it while you appreciate your breakfast?" "Why not?" she answered and started pour milk over her cornflakes. “I didn’t hear you come in, by the way?” “No, you wouldn’t have. I haven’t been home long.” I took a few minutes to finish what I was writing, then sat back in my chair and resumed speaking. "Hector handed me names and addresses," I said, "of two woman he thinks we should contact. Both, in his words, are attractive young female performers. I stated to him I didn't think you'd object." Sandra smiled and kept eating her cereal. "I have just completed transcribing to them," I continued, "demanding consultations at thei
IF THE TRUTH BE TOLD 43
The post arrived just as Sandra had finished making some ham and pickle sandwiches and handing me an envelope, with flowery handwriting. "Georgina Lyall will call on us at four o'clock this afternoon." "Is she one of the two good-looking blondes Hector recommended you had better get in touch with?" Sandra asked. "Certainly, she is. Unfortunately, I am not aware of anything else about her, or her association with this case, but I am sure we will find out rapidly enough." As expected, my forecast showed to be correct. Georgina Lyall appeared shortly before four and introduced herself with an astonishing declaration. "I would have come earlier had I known you were involved in the case, Mr Noone," she said. "I am so grateful for your letter." "Please sit down," I said, "and tell us, from the start, how you came to be involved in Tina's case." "It was through my job," she replied. "I'm a fashion stylist, and I teach at Homerton Coll
IF THE TRUTH BE TOLD 44
I poured a drink of brandy and handed it to our visitor. "Drink this and try to calm down," I said "It's delightful!" she said after her first sip. "Good, I'm glad you're liking it," I said, "now, please tell us about Tina." "The person all and sundry are talking about?" Helena Locke asked rhetorically. "I don't know her at all. She was the absolute reverse of all that has been alleged about her. It's been dreadful for each and every one of us but chiefly her family." She took another sip before continuing. "They're completely broken by this because it's not the true Tina at all. She was a lovely girl, with excellent sense of humour and, from the bottom of my heart, she was the most charming, sensitive, gorgeous person. Truly, she was one in a million. She was somebody who really had a sound judgment for life. She was very effortless as a person. Nothing was a bother to her; whether you asked her to call you a taxi or do a big deed, sh
IF THE TRUTH BE TOLD 45
45 "What do you propose to do now," Sandra asked when Helena Locke had left. "I just need to sit and think for a few minutes," "Do you need me?" Sandra asked. "Not at the moment," I answered. "You can stay if you wish, but if you have alternative plans?" "I need to get back to the police station," she replied. "Well, I may slip over to the Three Horseshoes and play a few frames of billiards. I'm sure Graham and Ian will be there, tonight." "Enjoy yourself, win or lose." I found my mates in the pub, and we played for several hours. After twelve midnight, when I got back, I found Sandra convening on a heap of pillows in the middle of the room. I said hello, and she became aware of me for the first time. "I'm sorry. I didn't even realise you were there. I've been deep in thought, positioned here with my eyes closed." "Have you come to any decisions?" I asked. "No," she said, "have you?"
IF THE TRUTH BE TOLD 46
"How much did you tell the Commissioner of Police?" I asked. "Janet Mason is in a very delicate position," Sandra said, "so I am cautious." "I realised as much," I said, "and that's why I asked." "I reminded her of the times she and her cohorts at Scotland Yard had messed things up and wanted me to save their skins. Not all the time, mind you, we only had the whole twenty-four hours. And I couldn't use the whole time chatting. In fact, I used up most of the time listening to her. Janet is not as happy at work as she once was, and not as indispensable, either. Once upon a time, the fact that she had no job title and no job description worked in her favour and she could make herself helpful in lots of ways, and in places, and there was no political restriction against any of them. She knew everybody and everything, and everyone came to him when they needed a bit of extra thinking done. Now, all her original team are gone, everything is compartmentalised, and sh
IF THE TRUTH BE TOLD 47
"It is, of course, possible," I said, "that I have something wrong, or several things wrong. But I think the chain is strong enough to survive a test." "How can you test it?" Sandra asked. "Hopefully, but it'll have to wait until the Commissioner of Police visits next Tuesday." "How did you know she'll be visiting?" Sandra asked. "Pretty obvious really," I said, "you were literally beside yourself when you came back, and I suspect she will be bringing somebody with her." "If he can be convinced that it is in his interest to come." "I thought as much," I said, "Let's hope he does, eh?" "How do you know that our guest will be a man?" "Because it can only be one person, and that person is a man." "Right then," Sandra said brightly, "what do we do now?" "Well, I've got another blood test for my anaemia first thing in the morning, so why don't we see if we can get into see a show up the West End?" Her
IF THE TRUTH BE TOLD 48
48 How long I hung there before Sandra screamed God only knows. But it had the right effect, as I held on with desperation, the performance immediately stopped, the lights went on, and the audience looked away from the stage and up towards me. My assailant had gone, but that didn't make the situation any easier. I hung on for dear life as theatre staff members came to my assistance, two male programme sellers pulling me to safety. I didn't stop to thank them, but I did ask them which way the assailant went. I gave chase, heading for the exit, taking the curving downward staircase to the door that led to the street. Out into the night, the crowds made finding my attacker almost impossible, but when I saw in the distance a man running in the direction of Charing Cross, I gave chase. He was twenty yards ahead of me, but I kept running, getting closer with every stride. Despite my age, I was reasonably fit, and I kept going. He dis
IF THE TRUTH BE TOLD 49
49 I ran. I was racing a train, trying to catch up with it. Hearing the slow-motion noise, grinding mechanical feedback underpinned by the terror growing within. One dirty red carriage after another rolls in, doors all set to open and inhale platform. Life is anything but stationary once the underground is entered. The crowded platform was a microcosm of every waiting room in the world, taking away the walls, the track, the metal benches, and it could be any waiting room for anything anywhere, anyplace. Passengers on the train looked at me as I weaved through the packed platform. Trying to reach the same carriage, my target was waiting to board. The train stopped. Give me a chance. The doors opened. The target waited by the doors of the first carriage. I ran down the platform, my feet hitting the concrete hard, sending shockwaves right up to my brain. My lungs heaved like the air was acidic, and every part of me felt like it would break if I didn't st
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